


Vi Svara på Våra Egna Frågor

by Pseudthisyafucks (collettephinz)



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fight or Flight, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, actually not slight PTSD, besties being besties, diner au, diner fic, graphic design professor mark, i love photography, jack and mark roommates, jack's a good guy, joyce price - Freeform, mention of bad relationships, mention of fatal car accidents, photographer felix, photography professor felix, slight PTSD, supportive mark, there's some real PTSD, this is a Life is Strange continuation fic, you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:09:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/Pseudthisyafucks
Summary: Jack works at a diner.That's it. That's all there is to it.Until some poor, sad soul comes through the door and makes Jack realize that he doesn't really need to be skating through his new life on easy mode.





	Vi Svara på Våra Egna Frågor

“You and me,” Robin said, wiping down the counter of the bar. “We’re gonna become the best hosts in the business. We’re gonna go to expos and competitions. And we’re gonna win and stuff. Become the most amazing hosts ever. Diner hosts.”

“The hostess with the mostest,” Jack drawled as he went to the pie display, intending on putting away the last few pieces of pecan pie. The diner was closing; only thirty minutes left until he and Robin could close up and go home. No one was in the diner, and it was dark outside. Jack wasn’t expecting anyone to show up, so when the bell above the door jangled to signal someone had come inside the diner, he was more than a little aggravated. He hoped this person didn’t want any warm food beyond something he could zap— the cook had gone home early an hour ago. 

“Welcome to Two Whale’s Diner,” Jack heard Robin say. He could hear the annoyance in his friend’s voice. “What can we get you?”

“Uh, food?”

Jack was facing away from the front (he was rolling silverware for the opening shift), so he was allowed to roll his eyes in utter disdain at the customer’s response. Of course, he was here for fucking food, what kind of a snarky asshole was this that planned on ruining Jack’s quickly-fading night?

“I just, uhm…” There was a pause. “Is that pie?” 

“Yes, it is. Pecan pie.”

“Can I have some of that?”

Jack jumped at the chance he was being given. Not only was he going to be able to avoid throwing away the pie and wasting food, but this also meant they wouldn’t have to do any more food prep, which meant that Jack would only have to clean another fork, knife, and plate, and that was it. He put the last slice of pecan pie onto the plate, then turned to the bar, ready to serve the customer. He faltered.

Sitting at the bar was a very worn down, very sad, very tired looking man. There was a heaviness in his gaze and dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. His blond hair was plastered to his head, which told Jack that it was raining outside. Something to expect when living in Oregon, but the man didn’t have an umbrella, nor was he wearing a jacket with any hood of sorts. He had a scraggly beard and his lip was split. Jack instinctually felt the need to ask if the man was okay, much as he would ask of his roommate if Mark ever came home looking like this. 

Jack blinked slowly, then realized the customer and Robin were both watching him, one confused, and one nonplussed. Jack must’ve gotten lost in his head. He shuffled forward and set the plate down in front of the tired man. “Need somethin’ ta drink?”

The man frowned. “What’s an Irishman doing out in Arcadia Bay?”

“Making a livin’, what’s it to ye’?” Jack didn’t mean to come off as so brazen, but he didn’t appreciate being interrogated by strangers. Still, the man looked instantly apologetic. “I moved here to help out my sister,” Jack lied quickly before the man could actually apologize. “Family stuff. You know.”  
The man nodded, but his expression somehow became even more haggard at the mention of family. 

“You okay, sir?” Jack asked because he couldn’t deny himself the question any longer. “You seem a little—”

“Just tired,” the man said, too quickly for it to be the truth. “Just moved here myself.”

A subtle change of the subject. “Where from?”

“Gothenburg.”

“Sweden?” Robin spoke up, his interested obviously peaked. “I’m from Sweden!” Jack’s friend grinned and stuck out his hand. _“Jag heter Robin.”_

The man smiled wearily and took the hand. _“Trevligt att råkas. Jag heter Felix.”_

“Felix,” Robin repeated. “And this is Jack. I have to say, I never, ever expected to meet a fellow Swede here. Most don’t vacation in the US, you know? Let alone this place, cause it rains so much here, too. Most go somewhere sunnier.”

“Never expected to meet another, either,” Felix admitted. He was looking a little less sad, but no less tired. Jack unsubtly nudged the silverware closer to Felix. It was the cue he needed to start to eat his pie. 

“What brought you?” Robin asked. He was leaning over the counter, smiling, obviously having forgotten his previous desire to hopefully leave early. 

“Work,” Felix said. The single word was enough of a sign to say he didn’t want to talk about it. Jack kicked Robin’s leg from behind the bar. Felix bent over his plate and started to eat the pie like he’d suddenly realized he was hungry. Jack watched him. He didn’t bother hiding that he was watching. He was fascinated by the pain in the man’s face. And he wished he could do something to make it all better. With Mark, he’d just put on a movie and make dinner for the both of them, even order pizza should the money allow it. But he didn’t know Felix. He wasn’t even supposed to care. 

Countless downtrodden and lifeless people had passed through the diner, all of them equally dead on the inside. Jack had talked to most of them, offering artificial comfort where he could, but he’d never really cared. He’d known all of the people who came through here had someone else out there who would be much better at offering help than Jack. But Felix… Jack was a little worried that he didn’t have anyone beyond the diner. He sure seemed like the lonely type. 

But before Jack could say anything, Felix was slapping a bill on the diner and thanking them stiffly for the pie, before disappearing out into the rainy night. Robin mumbled something about weird behavior and started to clean up the plate. Jack looked up at the clock and realized Felix hadn’t even been in the diner for more than ten minutes. 

. . .

“The new photography professor is coming in tomorrow,” Mark told Jack as he helped Jack sort their clothes for laundry. “It’s cool— he’s gonna be in the office next to mine. Photography next to graphic design. I’m sure I’m going to get plenty of noise complaints from him. They converted a dark room for him. They really fought to have this guy come here. He’s close to being the youngest professor here, aside from me.” Mark smirked to himself. “You know us prodigies. They collect us like pokemon cards.”

“I dunno, they didn’t convert a computer lab for you.” Jack threw one of his Overwatch shirts at Mark. He wished he had a little more time to play video games, but he was saving up for a new computer and he’d been picking up a lot of extra shifts for it. 

“I’m just as important as some photographer,” Mark snorted. “The only real difference between a photographer and a huge fucking nerd is the kind of ladies we get.”

“If you get ladies at all,” Jack shot back. 

Mark raised a brow. “You’re snarky. Did something happen at work?”

Jack shrugged. “Some guy from Sweden came in. He sounded a little like he wanted to die, but what do I know. Half the people in this town hate themselves. The other half are students, and they’re all well on their way.”

“Uh…”

Jack threw another shirt at him. “Ye’ know what I mean. Sad people ain’t really a rarity here.”

“You guys should start making smiley face cookies,” Mark said. “So they can be given specifically to sad people. They’ll be chocolate chip cookies with yellow icing over the whole thing and then a smiley face on them. It’ll be good for business. And the sanity of all the folks here.”

“I’ll be sure to suggest it to Joyce, later,” Jack sighed, referring to the owner of the diner. “You know how she’s been since her daughter died. She might love the idea, might think it’s a joke. But I’ll suggest it.”

Mark looked down at the clothes in front of him. “… Would it cheer you up if I turned all your whites red?”

“Fuck off, Mark,” Jack said with a laugh. He was feeling a little tired himself. 

. . .

“And please don’t forget that I’ve got muffins in the oven,” Joyce told Jack softly after Jack had clocked in for the lunch-to-close shift. He was closing by himself this night, though. He’d done it before, he was just going to miss having company. “They’re blueberry with that sugar glaze you love. Feel free to have some, I made an extra tray, take anything leftover home if you’d like.” She left soon after. Jack was worried about her, but he knew her husband was taking good care of her. It had to be hard, losing a daughter.

The day was relatively uneventful. Jack served the customers, mopped up muddy footprints by the door, gave some of the last of the muffins to the homeless woman that took shelter by the dumpster out back. He was thirty minutes to close, the diner empty, when the bell rang, much as it did last night. Jack looked up from where he was counting the register and saw the same man. Felix. 

He didn’t look much better than he had before.

“We’ve got muffins,” Jack said, wanting to volunteer something that could help, figuring Mark wouldn’t be too upset to learn Jack had given his takeaway to a man who looked like he needed it. “And pie. Not pecan pie, apple pie. I’ve also still got some hot water. I could make ye’ tea, hot chocolate…”

“Got any coffee?”

Jack faltered, then scrambled for the coffee pot that was kept in the back for employees. It was the good brew. He poured Felix a mug and slid it down the bar. Felix took it with a smooth hand, managing a smile at Jack. “Thanks.”

“Want that pie? Or muffin?”

Felix shook his head. “Where’s the other guy? The Swede?”

“He didn’t work today,” Jack explained. “Just me tonight. No big deal, though, I’ve closed the diner before. Just got to keep an eye out for the stabbers and shit.”

Felix startled. “Stabbers?”

“Kidding,” Jack said with a grin. “We had a stabbing, once, but it was years before I lived here. The worst that happens in suicides. Though there was this poor girl…” Jack trailed off. “Ye’ probably don’t want to hear that. Especially not about the teacher. That was really nasty. Crazy to think that someone who’s meant to care for kids and teach them could hurt people like that. Photography, too. Ain’t it funny how the artists are the ones to really lose it? Sad, actually.”

Felix was quiet. 

Jack winced. “I’m sorry. If I get t’ talking, I have a hard time stopping. Sometimes I put my foot so far down my throat that I choke on it.”

“Can I get another coffee?”

Jack nodded and refilled Felix’s mug. “So, uh… Work brought you here, right? From Sweden. What kind of work? What do you do?”

Felix took a sip of the coffee. “I’m a teacher.”

Jack realized he’d been choking on his foot already. “Uh… What do you teach?”

“Photography.”

Jack just stared for a long moment before he saw Felix crack the barest of grins. “It’s alright,” Felix told him. “You didn’t know.”

“You’re the new photography teacher. At Blackwell Academy.” Jack sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. Artsy people don’t go crazy and stuff. And my roommate is the graphic design guy there, so—”

“You live with Mark?” Felix asked. Jack actually appreciated the interruption. “Mark Fishbake, right?”

“Fischbach,” Jack corrected with a snicker. “Yeah, we’ve lived together ‘bout two years. It’s been mad fun, at that. He’s a great guy and I love being around him, he’s definitely really good at what he does and he’s really nice. He’s smart, too. You and he are the youngest teachers at Blackwell, right? You’ve got to be something smart. Or talented.” Jack paused. “Can I see your work? If you have any?”

“I don’t have any,” Felix said, his voice soft. 

“No?” Jack frowned. “Ye’ don’t carry around a fuckin’ DSLR everywhere ye’ go?”

“Those are just stereotypes,” Felix snorted. “And my lenses are way too big for me to bring to the diner.”

“I could make you a cubbyhole,” Jack told him. “We’ve all got a cubby in the back for our stuff when we come in for longer shifts. There are a few empty ones, I can definitely just sharpie your name in there and you can keep those giant lenses in the cubby, safe and sound. And then you won’t ever have to worry about it.”

Felix’s smile grew wider. “That’d be the first time I’ve ever had a cubby hole.”

“What, not even in the baby days?”

Felix chuckled and shook his head, drinking more coffee. “Never got that. I was pretty stubborn. I didn’t like bringing things to school because I didn’t like doing work. So I never had anything to put in the cubby and I got lunch from my friend.”

Jack snorted. “You would be the kind of person to throw away the rigorous society of mandatory education.”

Felix just laughed. He paused. “… Could I get some of that pie, maybe?”

“Absolutely,” Jack said, getting a piece of apple pie for the man. He nuked it in the microwave to make sure it was nice and warm for Felix, because Felix looked like he was deserving of some warm apple pie, and not the room temperature pie leftover from the entire day. No, Felix deserved the good shit. Even if it was just the same shit at a higher degree. He set down the pie in front of Felix and smiled. “Ripe and ready for ye’.”

Felix took the fork on the counter and started to eat. Slowly, mechanically. Almost like he wasn’t eating for the pleasure, but just to get something into himself. And yet, if that were the case, he probably would’ve asked for something a little healthier. No one ate pie for sustenance. 

“Thank you,” Felix said. Then he threw some cash down on the countertop and waved goodbye to Jack before disappearing into the night again. 

Jack smiled to himself and recommenced closing up the diner.

. . .

“How’re your classes?” Jack asked a few nights later. Felix had been in for all of his closes. He was looking forward to seeing the blond now. It made the end of his shifts worth it. “The kids like you yet?”

“Pretty sure they’re all just nervous that I’ll lock them in a fucking room,” Felix sighed. “I haven’t even heard the extent of what the last guy did, but it all sounds like dark, evil stuff.” He sighed again. “Hard to believe someone could do something like that to any other human being. Any other living being. To think that they could hurt someone…”

Jack watched him trail off as he cleaned a cup with a rag. “People hurting people,” he said softly. “It’s the saddest thing, ain’t it?”

“The worst,” Felix croaked out before drinking his coffee. 

Jack watched him. “… How do you sleep after drinking all of this? Doesn’t the caffeine keep you awake? Don’t you want to sleep tonight?”

“Frankly, no, I don’t,” Felix responded.

“… Ah.” Jack kept watching him. “Why’d you come to Oregon, Felix?”

“I told you,” Felix said. “Work.”

“No one comes this far from home for work,” Jack said. “Not unless they’re running.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I am running,” Jack told him. “That’s how I know that you are too.”

Felix’s shoulders visibly tensed. He wasn’t eating his chocolate pie anymore. “… Lost a friend. Lost some family. Didn’t have much of a homely feeling at home anymore, so I left. That’s all you’re getting. Why’re you here?”

Jack smiled sadly. “Not much different. Had some bad stuff happen, so I had to run. Didn’t lose anyone, but… Well, I wasn’t sure I had anyone to lose in the first place.”

“Bad friends?”

“Bad boyfriend,” Jack admitted sheepishly. “Long-distance turned short-distance turned mistake.” Jack’s throat tightened, warning him to stop talking. “Don’t like t’ think about it.”

Something changed in Felix’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack,” he said. It was sincere. “I, uh. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Jack grinned back. “Me too! It’s a great place, ye’ know. Even after all the bad stuff. The weather’s amazing, while a little windy, and we had some weird phenomenons a couple years back, but the sunsets and sunrises are like something out of a fantasy book, and Mark’s really one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And I like my job. I like my apartment. I like everything. I’m happy, and that’s what matters, right? I mean, I’ve been through my fair share of hardships, and I’ve seen the darkness, so I definitely know what the light looks like. I know when I have something good and I know better than to take it for granted and let it slip through my fingers.”

Felix looked to him across the counter with a sort of soft awe. His fork was in midair, halfway to his mouth with a serving of pie, and his stare was making Jack blush. Jack giggled and ducked his head. “What?” he asked, wanting Felix to stop looking up at him like that, while simultaneously loving the attention. 

“I’ve never thought about it that way,” Felix murmured. He sent Jack a small smile. “I, uh, I’ve got to get going. Thank you for saying that. Maybe I need to change the way I’m looking at all of this.” Jack hadn’t known that Felix was having a problem with his outlook in the first place, though those first couple nights where Felix would sit at the counter, listless and broken, said enough. “Thank you, Jack,” Felix said, setting down too much cash for the pie and the cup of coffee. “You’re a good guy.” 

The smile they shared before Felix left felt almost like a secret. It warmed Jack’s chest and he knew he would happily never tell a soul.

. . .

Felix came every night, at first. He and Jack would talk for about ten minutes, sometimes twenty, but the man would always leave before the diner officially closed. Jack suspected it was because Felix didn’t want to keep Jack at his job any longer than necessary. And at first, Jack appreciated the courtesy. But after a while, he really just wanted Felix to stay. 

He found out Felix didn’t come on nights Jack didn’t close. Robin was the one to bring his attention to it, but Joyce was the one to really make Jack think about it.

“I swear, he hardly comes for the pie and coffee,” Joyce muttered, sounding a little less tired than usual. “If he were, he’d be here Friday through Friday, and I’d ask about naming a dish after him.” Joyce paused and arched a brow at Jack. “Well?”

Jack paused from where he was bussing tables. “Well what?”

“Are you dumb or just willfully dense, Seán? He comes here for you, and only you. Otherwise, Robin would be getting to know him just as well as you do. Instead, he shows up, sits in front of you, and makes moon eyes all the rigorous twenty minutes, or less.” When Jack still didn’t comment, she let out an exasperated sighed. “Just, either let him know he’s not wasting his time, or stop wasting his money. He leaves a large enough tip for you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. He’d tuck bills into your waistband if it wasn’t too forward.”

Jack’s ears turned red. He looked away from Joyce and cleared his throat. “He, he’s a customer. He likes your pie. So what if he has a favorite server? Maybe that just means everyone else gives crappy service.”

“Sweetie, you know that I’m delightful, and Robin’s a breath of fresh air.” Joyce flicked soapy water at Jack. “He just wants a piece of the Irish. I say you either man up and ask him on a date, or let him down easy. The poor boy needs to move on if you’re not interested. I’ve seen him around town. Always looks so sad.” She tutted under her breath. “People as young as him don’t deserve to look downtrodden like he does. There needs to be a sort of barrier between tragedy and age. Nothing horrible can happen to you until you’re past thirty. Needs to be a law.”

Jack didn’t know what to say. Joyce sighed. 

“Just, make sure to keep a piece of pie in the oven so it’ll be good for him when he comes tonight,” she told Jack. “And be sure to mop up the floor after he leaves. It’s supposed to rain tonight.”

. . .

Jack was bringing lunch to Mark on Blackwell campus when he saw Felix sitting on a bench out in the courtyard. He had a warm sandwich in his hands, and he knew Mark was hungry, knew he really was, but…

Jack dropped down onto the seat beside Felix and smiled when Felix startled. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!” he said, waving for added chipperness. Joyce’s comment about knowing Felix had been through tragedy just by looking at him was niggling at the back of his mind. _Lost a friend, lost some family._ He wanted to make Felix smile. Felix stared at him, eyes wide like an owl’s. “Before ye’ ask, I’m not stalking,” Jack told him. “Just taking lunch to yer office neighbor. Mark left his food at home and we thought it’d be nice to eat together on my day off.”

“Oh,” Felix said, blinking slowly. “… So, where is he?”

Jack shrugged. “Dunno. Saw ye’ and made a detour.”

Felix chortled and stood. “Let’s go give him his lunch.”

. . .

Felix liked video games. That was what Jack learned during lunch with Felix while sitting in Mark’s lap and watching Felix play Doom on Mark’s desktop. “I’m just looking for somebody to call me Lucy and hold me tight,” Mark laughed as Felix dogged on him for joining a dating app. “Is that so much to ask for?”

“The Lucy part is a bit much,” Jack argued, lounging across Mark’s legs. Felix was using the only other chair in the room. He’d offered to grab his chair from next door, but Jack was comfier when Mark was uncomfortable. “Shit, Felix, on your left.”

“Fuck off, Chris Evans,” Felix grumbled as he shot the demon that was on his left blind spot. “God, what difficulty level is this on?”

“The not-for-pussies level,” Mark said. Felix blindly reached out and swatted the air for Mark’s face. The two were very familiar with one another, which Jack took as a comfort. Felix had something close to a friend at work. That meant a lot to him. Mark was definitely a good person to have in your life. “Dude, dude, why aren’t you using the shotgun? And why did you chose the aim upgrade? Don’t you want your bullets to explode? Exploding bullets, man, way fucking better.”

“Excuse me for choosing strategy over brute force,” Felix scoffed. 

“Dude, your strategy is about to get you killed,” Jack commented. And on screen, Felix was suddenly destroyed by a Knight of Hell. Felix let out a cry of indignation and kicked the leg of Mark’s desk. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this shit, Felix,” Jack said. “I thought you played video games, like, every night. I thought you were pro.”

“Fuck off, Brad,” Felix growled, still immersed in the game. Jack reared back, surprised at the name. “Where was that upgrade module?”

“Who’s Brad?” Mark asked slowly. Felix stopped playing, and his character was killed again.

“Just, someone,” Felix said. “Who else wants a turn?”

Jack took the controller with no fuss. He didn’t want Felix to feel pressured or anything. He had no idea who Brad was, but the words “lost a friend” wouldn’t leave Jack alone now. “Show me where you found that secret,” he prodded. “The little collectible figure. I want to get it again since you fucking died.”

“You don’t collect figures twice,” Felix scoffed. But he showed Jack the way regardless, and he was right. You couldn’t collect the figure twice. The spot was empty, Felix laughed a little at him, and it felt right.

. . .

Mark was watching Jack while Jack was making omelets. Sitting on the counter, in his boxers and a t-shirt, just watching him. His legs kicked at the counter drawers and he just stared. Jack started to feel a little uncomfortable. “What, Mark?” he asked with a heavy sigh. 

“So,” Mark drawled. “… Felix.”

Jack groaned. 

“You seem to care about him a lot,” Mark said. “Like, a lot, a lot. Grade school, trading notes in class, a lot. Awkwardly watching him from the other side of the gym, a lot. Changing your sheets in the middle of the night, a lo—”

“Just because he’s a cute guy and I’m nice to him doesn’t instantly mean I’m into him,” Jack said.

Mark grinned wide. “So you think he’s cute?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at Mark. “I’m not making you an omelet anymore.”

“Small consequences,” Mark said, brushing it off. “You think he’s cute, right? And he doesn’t have anyone. He’s definitely single. So, if he were to ask you out…”

“I’d say yes,” Jack responded without much thought. Because Felix was cute and nice and Jack was single and not stupid. Who the hell would turn down someone like that? “Of course I would say yes. Even you would say yes, and ye’ don’t even like cock.”

“I would say yes, you’re right,” Mark agreed. “But the point is that _you_ would say yes.”

“Why does it matter?” Jack asked. He could smell burning cheese and flipped the omelet. He probably should just take it off the stove entirely. “Nothing’s happening, Mark. He’s probably not gay and I’m just a server. I don’t really think you’re understanding the whole thing about us homosexuals. We can be friends with a guy and not have it be a thing.”

Mark just shrugged and jumped off the counter. “I still expect an omelet.”

Jack grumbled unhappily to himself. He was unfortunately still going to make Mark his omelet.

. . .

“I heard you don’t come in when I’m not here,” Jack mentioned nonchalantly. “Don’t like Robin?”

“No, I like Robin,” Felix said, eating his pie. It was pecan again, apparently a favorite of Felix’s. “I just don’t really know him that well. He isn’t a friend, you know? He’s just a really nice guy.”

Jack perked up. “I’m yer friend?” When Felix looked slightly offended that Jack asked, he grinned. “I’m yer friend. Fucking awesome, Fe’.” He wasn’t sure where the nickname came from, but it made Felix smile.

“I like that,” Felix said. “Never had a nickname before.”

“What, really?”

“There are not a fucking plethora of nicknames for the name Felix,” the man scoffed. “You’re in the same boat, right? Just, like, Jacky and Jackster or whatever.”

“Well, my real name is Seán, so…”

Felix sat up straight, gasping, his hand slapping over his chest in a dramatic gesture. “What? You’ve been lying to me this whole time? How could you, Jack! If that’s even your real name!”

Jack laughed. “You’d be right, it ain’t my real name.”

“Seán, huh?” Felix said like he was testing the name out on his tongue. Jack found he liked the way Felix said it. “Seán. Seán what?”

“McLoughlin.”

“That’s so fucking Irish,” Felix snickered. He stuck out his hand. “Felix Arvid Ulf Kjellberg.”

“Holy shit, say that again?”

Felix just laughed at him and shook his head. “Don’t worry, you won’t get it right anyway.” He paused, looking down at the pie. “So, uh… Back to the whole coming-to-see-you thing. I really do only come to see you. And you seem pretty excited to see me each time, so, I was wondering, uh… I mean, I hope I haven’t been…” Felix trailed off, his eyes searching Jack. Jack waited patiently for him to continue. He watched Felix’s face fall, just the tiniest degree, but nothing else. “I need a photography model— would you be okay with helping me out?”

Jack snorted. “Ye’ want me t’ model?”

“Yeah. I’m going for a hazy day session, something kinda somber, but at the same time, oddly peaceful. And I need a model for a few shots, but I don’t really know a lot of people around here, and I know I’m someone people fear for whatever the last guy did, so I feel like I can ask you.”

Jack paused. “What about Mark?”

Felix’s face fell a little more. “Sure,” he mumbled. “I guess I can ask him.”

Fuck, Jack had fucked up. “I mean, I’d love t’ do it,” he said quickly, trying to recover and make Felix look a little less like shit. “But Mark’s got a lot more model quality to him. I just think ye’d be better off asking him, but I’d love t’ do it if ye’ really want.”  
“You don’t have to,” Felix said softly.

“Well, fine then.” Jack ducked down so he could catch Felix’s eyes and gave him a bright smile. “I’d love t’. When and where?”

Felix paused, grimacing and squirming in his chair. He cut his eyes away from Jack’s. “This Friday night would be great if you’re off,” he finally said. “I know of a good spot, those train tracks. Trying to get a good sunset for the lighting. And if you’re not paranoid, I’d like to go into the trees a bit. I swear I won’t hurt you.”

“Don’t be daft,” Jack snorted. “Ye’d never hurt me.” He tossed his dishrag into the sink. “Friday is perfect,” he told Felix. “I’m excited. Really.”

Felix just nodded and pushed away his half-eaten his pie before going for his wallet. “Don’t,” Jack said, suddenly remembering what Joyce had said. Felix tipped him too much. Almost like— “Ye’ don’t gotta pay tonight, Felix, I’ll cover ye’.”

Felix frowned. “But I’m the one—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack interrupted. “It ain’t like you’re paying for my company. Ye’ve done me a grand favor being here whenever I close, takes the monotony away. I like hanging with ye’. Don’t gotta pay a dime when you’re doing me a favor.”

Felix stared at Jack, cheeks going pink. He ducked his head again and put away his wallet. “I’m paying next time,” he said firmly. 

“If ye’ want.” Jack sent him a bright grin. “Seeya Friday night?”

“Do you not close tomorrow?”

“Don’t close the rest of the week.”

Felix nodded, disappointed. 

“Fuck. Hold on.” Jack went into the back to grab his phone from his cubby hole. He returned and held it out to Felix after punching in his password. “I’m yer friend, yeah? Friend’s have each other’s number. Put yourself in there, Felix. You can text me whenever ye’ want.”

Felix stared at the phone. “… Do I need to take a cute selfie for the contact photo?”

“Do whatever ye’ want.”

Felix nodded, plugging in his information. Then he shot a photo of his pie, presumably for his contact photo. Jack found it kinda clever. The only thing he associated with Felix more than his face was the pie he seemed so addicted to. Felix handed back the phone and gave Jack a tight smile. “See you Friday,” he said in a strangled tone. Then he left. 

Jack didn’t like to think it, but it seemed like Felix was suddenly dreading this coming Friday.

. . .

“Is it a date?” Mark asked, waggling his brow like a buffoon. 

“Hardly,” Jack replied. “I’m gonna be his model, though. That’ll be cool.”

“Have you ever modeled?”

Jack shook his head, stirring dinner on the stove. Shepherds Pie. His Shepherds Pie, a family recipe that he’d perfected over the years. He glanced at Mark and saw he looked intrigued. Jack rolled his eyes. “Ye’ should’ve been a scientist for all the thinking you do.”

“There are countless people at the school who have modeling experience,” Mark told him. “Adults, too. If he’d wanted a model, he would have gone to one of them. Someone with more experience. Did he say anything before he asked you to model for him?”

It hadn’t been what Felix had said, it had been what he’d been _about_ to say. But Jack didn’t want Mark to stir the pot any further. “Nothing,” he said, merely committing the truth rather than lying. “It ain’t what ye’ think, Mark. I’m just gonna bring some beer, let him choose my clothes, and then I’ll do whatever dance he wants. It ain’t nothing.”

Mark didn’t look like he agreed. 

. . .

Friday came quickly, and Jack had checked his hair three times in the mirror before answering the door. Felix was there, looking smart in an argyle sweater and thin-rimmed glasses with a camera bag around his shoulder. Felix’s face opened up and he smiled tightly when he saw Jack. Then the smile died when he looked at Jack’s clothes. “Uh—”

“I’d figure you’d be dressing me,” Jack told him, chuckling. He knew his ratty university shirt and stained sweatpants weren’t exactly photogenic. “You’re the one with the artistic vision, not me.”

“Where’s your room?” Felix asked after Jack stepped side to gesture him into the apartment. It was blessedly clean, as Jack had been sure to tidy up before Felix had shown up. “We need to hurry. Sunset is about to start and I want the golden light to be more natural than boxed. I hope you have some clothes that are auburn or close because blue would be disconcerting with the tones that I’m shooting today.” Jack barely understood Felix’s thought process, but he was mystified by it regardless. He’d always been struck with how artists could have these vision and the way they knew how to make that vision happen. He admired it. 

Jack grinned and brought Felix into his bedroom, proud of how clean this room was too. The windows were open, letting in the cool breeze of outside, and the curtains billowed gently about. His bed was made and he’d taken down all of his band posters to make himself seem a little more mature. The unused drum kit had been dusted and was sitting neatly in the corner with the computer desk to the other side and the closet door beside that. Jack was proud of his room looked until he turned and realized he’d _just brought Felix into his bedroom._

Felix didn’t look out of place in here, but that wasn’t the point. His point was that Felix was standing next to his bed, all clean and prim and proper, making Jack wonder what he would look like on the bed and a little more ruined. 

Jack tensed and tried to push that thought away. For all of his denial of him and Felix ever becoming a thing, he was unable to ignore just how fucking attractive the other man was. Felix had talked about that golden glow for his artistic vision. Jack wanted to see that golden glow dancing across Felix’s bare skin. All Jack would have to do to make is own artistic vision come to life would be to give Felix a little push.

“Mind if I look?”

Jack startled out of his thoughts. “What?”

Felix pointed to the door. “Your closet. Mind if I look?”

Had Jack actually thought to clean the closet? He was sure he had. “Go for it.”

Felix ducked his head as he passed Jack. He smelled like fucking vanilla and Jack really could have gone his whole life not knowing that. Felix opened the closet door and disappeared inside. It was a small walk-in that had hanger racks on both sides with a beanbag centered between the two for whenever Jack wanted a small little space to play his Switch. He had cold-weather clothes on the left, warm-weather clothes on the right, and a small Chester drawer set for his night and underwear under the winter clothes and his laundry bag on the left.

There was the sound of hangars being pushed around before Felix came out of the closet with a dark mauve sweater, a tan button-up, and gray skinny jeans. “Do you have combat boots?” he asked. “Ideally a lighter brown?” 

“Boots are by the drawers,” Jack said, taking the clothes from Felix and thoughtlessly stepping out of his sweatpants to pull on the jeans. He was so used to being with Mark, who would be happy to walk around stark naked if Jack didn’t raise enough of a fuss, and hadn’t thought twice about changing in front of Felix. The way Felix’s eyes became icy blue saucers said otherwise. “Fuck, sorry,” he said. “I’ll go t’ the bathroom.”

“Jesus, no, it’s fine,” Felix said, recovering and waving Jack off. His ears were dusted a light pink and he wasn’t looking anywhere but Jack now. “Just wasn’t expecting that. I, I’ll get the boots. Don’t button up the bottom shirt all the way, have the collar more casual over the brim of the sweater. and the edges coming out of under the sweater, over the jeans.”

“Don’t tuck, got it,” Jack affirmed, trying to joke to lighten the mood. He subconsciously pulled his shirt down to cover his front, mindful of how tight his boxer shorts were and his bare legs getting goosebumps from the cold of the room. Maybe he should have closed the windows. He’d already started undressing, it’d be awkward to abort now. Jack quickly stepped into the tight jeans and shimmied them up his hips, doing a little dance as he always had to because his hips were so fucking wide that it was ridiculous. Then he pulled off the grungy shirt and quickly pulled on the button up, working quickly to button it up before Felix came back with the boots.

He was tugging the sweater on over his head when Felix reemerged from the closet, holding Jack’s old hiking boots up with a triumphant grin. “These are perfect,” he said. “Well worn and scuffed, just what we need.” He paused when he saw Jack. “Wow. That looks really good.”

Jack snorted and took the boots from Felix, stepping into them without undoing the laces. He just slipped his feet in because he was lazy. “Ain’t it a bit arrogant to compliment your work like that?”

“Picking the clothes out doesn’t mean shit if you don’t know how to wear them,” Felix replied. “They look good because you look good. Don’t insult me.” Felix pulled his camera out of his bag and snapped a quick shot before Jack could react. “Candid,” Felix said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Need that for reference anyways. If you really do want all credit for the clothes, then I guess I should thank them rather than you, huh?”

“Fuck off,” Jack said with a laugh. “Where are we going?”

“Did I tell you?” Felix asked. “There are these tracks, just down the way. I saw them one day when I was just sort of exploring around and stuff and really wanted to get some shots of it and the nearby stuff. There’s a dump, but that’s a little too edgy for me to handle. I just want— I want some feel-good shots. I don’t know.” Felix shrugged. “Just wanna go and see what happens.”

Jack grinned. “Nice and easy, yeah?”

“Nice and easy.” Felix’s eyes lingered on Jack for a moment, not judging just— just looking. Jack shifted underneath the gaze, reminded of how Felix had looked when he’d first come into the diner, that thousand yard stare seeping every ounce of strength from Felix’s bones. Felix had said he was running from something, just like everyone else. Jack reached out and took Felix gently by the arm. “Hey,” he beckoned gently, not letting go when Felix flinched out of himself. “Nice and easy.”

Felix nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “I get lost sometimes.”

“Lost in me eyes?” Jack asked shamelessly. “Cause that’s where I am. Uncharted, blue seas.”

Felix’s cheeks went pink, but he cracked a smile. “Uh, sure. I guess. Are you flirting with me?”

Jack laughed. “Holy shit, Felix, didn’t ye’ want t’ leave? We’ve got waning daylight.”

Felix’s eyes went wide in horror. He smacked uselessly at Jack’s chest, rambling out something in Swedish, before spinning on his heel and darting out of the room. Jack followed him, still laughing. He trailed Felix out of the apartment to Felix’s car, this neat, little, red Volvo sedan. There was an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror that looked like Link’s shield from Breath of the Wild and Jack’s heart squeezed as he slid into the passenger seat. The car smelled like apples from the air freshener and Jack hated how unfair the world was. How was he supposed to redact everything he’d said to Mark about not being into Felix? So fucking unfair.

Felix drove like a fucking demon, which was entirely unexpected. Jack had assumed that a demure guy like Felix would drive like a grandparent, but that wasn’t the case, and Jack was practically glued to the fucking floorboards by the time they got to the park Felix had scouted out. “It couldn’t have been that bad,” Felix said, rolling his eyes with a grin. “Are the Irish all that wussy?”

“We’re fuckin’ drunks, we don’t like cars,” Jack griped as he peeled himself out of the car seat. The sun was just about to begin its descent, the sky being a light shade of pink and purple already. The woods in front of them were still well lit, and Jack knew they’d only have to wander through a bit of it before coming upon those tracks Felix was aiming for. Felix shouldered his bag again, looking to Jack expectantly. 

Felix smiled wide. “I knew those were good clothes for this,” he said. “Walk ahead. I don’t want the focus to be entirely on the model, I want some more surrealism to it, so I’m planning on hiding your face.” When Jack raised a brow, Felix rushed to recover. “Not that you have a bad face! I just, I want the anonymity. I want the subject to be everything, not just the scene or the model. I want— I want you to be part of everything in the shot.” Felix flushed deeply, probably embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jack said softly, a little enamored with Felix’s passionate explanation. “Ye’ sound like Mark when he’s explaining some design concept, except you’re much easier t’ understand. You’ve some lucky students.”

Felix was redder than the setting sun at this point. Jack took pity on him and moved ahead, just walking through the trees. He trusted Felix to instruct him if he wanted something in particular and just enjoyed the quiet of the woods, the leaves and underbrush crunching beneath his feet, the cooling breeze and the sound of the birds getting ready to tuck in for the night. Underneath the gentle murmur of the woods, he heard the quick click of Felix’s camera lens.

Normally, Jack wouldn’t exactly enjoy being photographed or filmed without control over the environment and the outcome, but Jack doubted Felix could make any photo of Jack turn out as bad as he normally looked. Jack trusted Felix to always get Jack’s good side. Jack acted natural enough, watching his feet, looking up through the leaves above to the golden rays of the setting sun, balancing himself against the trunks of the trees. Felix stayed behind him the whole way, intermittently snapping shots, but saying nothing. 

Jack broke through the trees to the rocky, manmade uphill for the train tracks. The rocks were sharp and loose and he had a bit of trouble climbing them, laughing at his own clumsiness. Jack put his foot down in a bad spot, and all of the rocks beneath went tumbling away, taking his foot with them. He shrieked and barely caught his balance by waving his arms wildly in the air, making a fool of himself. Jack looked back to Felix, ready to play it off and hopefully seem less like a fucking idiot than he’d just made himself out to be, but stalled in his joke when he saw Felix was lowering his camera from taking pictures of Jack’s fumble. 

“Hey!” Jack whined. “I’d thought ye’ weren’t gonna make me look bad!”

“It didn’t look bad,” Felix said, looking down at the screen of his camera to flick through the photos he’d taken. “Trust me on this.”

“It’s me, Felix, I ain’t gonna look good when being a prima ballerina.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Felix replied idly. 

Jack’s brain stalled at Felix’s response. For a moment, he really, really hated the unfairness of the world. Not only was Felix talented, kind, a gamer, and attractive, but he was also smooth as fuck. “What kinda camera is that?” he asked, feeling stupid. 

“Well, I’m doing mainly wide scenery shots for this, so I’ve got my EOS-ID X Mark II,” Felix prattled off, still looking through photos. “There are three main camera companies out there, really. You’ve got Sony, Canon, and Nikon, and they’re all good at different shit. Sony’s got it down on video imaging, which I don’t do a lot of, so I don’t own a Sony. Nikon has a better color contrast, making it the preferable tool for portraits. If we were using you as the main focus for most of these shots, I’d be using my Nikon D850, but since we’re focusing on the wide area, I’m using my Canon. Sticking with mainly the 75-300 lens because it’s a really good, all-purpose lens, and I knew we’d be doing some moving around, so I wanted to keep my camera bag light.”

Jack gaped. 

Unfair world.

 _Felix was smart_ and officially out of Jack’s league. As if he hadn’t been before, this really took the cake and smeared it all over Jack’s once-spotless windows. Fucking hell, this was a terrible realization. 

Felix looked up, then winced. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to nerd out on you.”

“I love nerds,” Jack blurted out. “I mean, nerding. But also nerds. I’m a nerd, y’know.” Jack cringed internally at his own horrible attempts at talking. “I don’t mind,” he said, still trying, still digging a fucking hole. “At all, okay? I love hearing people talk about the shit they’re passionate for. Don’t ever apologize for loving something, yeah? Especially not t’ me.”

Felix smiled shakily and finally climbed the hill after Jack. He hit another bad spot, swayed badly. Jack reached out immediately to take Felix by the shoulder and waist, keeping him steady. “Careful now,” he murmured. “Wouldn’t want t’ fall on yer camera.” Felix was warm under his hands and the other man quickly pulled away from his touch, climbing the hill to the top and not letting Jack see his face. “Should I be behind ye’?” Jack asked, trying to play off the whole touching thing. Maybe Felix didn’t like being touched. Jack could work with that. “Don’t ye’ want me—”

“Yeah, sure, go up ahead.”

Jack frowned at Felix’s back, wondering why he was suddenly so tense. He moved up the tracks anyway, making sure to give Felix plenty of space as he passed him. Jack went up the tracks, taking care not to trip. He stepped lightly, walking only on the boards, giving himself a small challenge in controlling his gait. “The floor is lava!” he exclaimed because Felix was tense and Jack didn’t like tense situations. “Felix, quick, ye’ll burn!”

He looked back over his shoulder and saw Felix was looking at him with something that Jack could only relate to horror. 

“I’m sorry,” Felix choked out. “I thought I was okay. I thought I could do this. I—”

Felix cut himself off, turned around, and just— he just left. Down the rocky hill, back into the woods. Jack watched him go, momentarily stunned and unable to follow. Had he done something? All he’d done was making a joke about lava and burning. Jack stumbled down the rocks and went back through the woods, trying to catch sight of Felix. He couldn’t see the Swede, and, more alarmingly, no red car.

Jack broke through the trees to find the parking lot vacated. 

He stood there, feeling even more stupid. 

“You’re kidding me.”

A sleepy hawk answered him. Jack wanted to flip the fucker off. 

He walked through the parking lot, then onto the road, saw that everything was desolate and empty as the sun was setting, and hated fucking everything. He’d been ditched. Felix had fucking ditched him. 

What kind of fucking asshole did that? And so suddenly? Felix had been nothing but kind the whole time Jack had known him, and Mark had only ever sung his praises. Why the fuck would he ditch Jack like this? Why would he just leave him fucking stranded, abandon him out in the middle of the fucking nowhere? What a fucking

_What a fucking dick._

Jack looked at his phone and saw he had no cell service. 

“Great,” he said to himself, before turning down the road and starting to walk. 

. . .

Mark picked him up once Jack got cell service. 

“I just don’t get it,” Mark said to himself, sounding so confused. “Felix had been sounding a little nervous about this, yeah, but he never— I don’t know why he would do this.”

“Cause he’s a dick,” Jack grumbled, arms crossed over his chest as he slouched in the passenger seat. The heating was going full blast because Jack was shivering and it had started to drizzle the last few minutes before Mark had picked Jack up at the gas station he’d reached after literally thirty minutes of walking. “God, Mark, I’m such an idiot.”

“What? Why are you an idiot?”

“Because you were right,” Jack confessed. “I was starting to like him. It’s hard t’ like people, y’know? Especially for me. I don’t want another failed relationship that gets so fuckin’ ugly I have to pack house and leave. I don’t want that t’ happen again, so I keep it close to my chest. Then I start falling for this guy and he turns out to be a right fuckin’ asshole.”

“I just don’t get it,” Mark said, mostly to himself.

“What don’t ye get?” Jack demanded, glaring at Mark. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Yes.”

Mark’s blunt response left Jack feeling even angrier. “Fuck off,” he bit, out, scowling. “Take me home.” He didn’t want to be around anyone right now. 

“I’ll drop you off,” Mark said.

“What? Where are you going?” Even though being alone was exactly what he’d wanted, he didn’t like feeling abandoned by his best friend after being so wrongfully slighted. 

“To Felix’s,” Mark said. 

Jack sat up straight. Stared for a long time. “Stop the car,” he said. 

“What?”  
“Stop the car, ye’ fuckass.”

Mark sighed heavily. “Jack, don’t be like this. We’re still a mile from home.”

“Stop the car or I’m jumping.”

“The speed limit is forty-five miles per hour!”

“Mark. Let. Me out.”

Mark pulled over and Jack stepped out into the rain. He slammed the door shut and started walking. 

“Jack, get in the car.”

“I’m gonna break the fuckin’ windows if you don’t shut up.”

Jack didn’t get back in the car, but Mark didn’t leave either. He drove alongside Jack at five miles an hour or less and didn’t stop until he’d escorted Jack home. Jack flipped him off before climbing the stairs to the apartment. Mark drove away and Jack put a chair against the door after he’d locked it to spitefully keep Mark from coming home. 

. . .

When the sun rose, Jack felt a bit like an ass and moved the chair from the door. Mark came home not ten minutes later. He sat on the couch next to Jack, where Jack was watching cartoons and eating cereal. 

“Sorry fer locking ye’ out,” Jack mumbled around his spoon. When Mark didn’t respond, Jack dragged his eyes fro the TV to Mark and saw— 

His eyes were swollen and red. 

Jack frowned. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been crying on and off for hours,” Mark said. 

Jack’s frown deepened. “Why?”

“I was with Felix.”

Jack’s frown turned to a scowl. “And how is your new best friend?”

Mark’s eyes welled with tears. “I can’t tell you. He’ll tell you. He’s sorry, Jack.”

“Ain’t sorry enough t’ say it to my face.” Jack got up off the couch. “Sorry ye’ feel like shit. I’m going to work.” His shift wasn’t for another four hours, but he didn’t want to start a fight. “Take your weekend easy, Mark. I’ll see ye’ later.”

. . .

Jack didn’t see Felix for two weeks and Jack didn’t miss him. 

He didn’t.

Jack didn’t constantly look for Felix to come through the diner door at the ends of his shifts, didn’t keep his ears trained for the ping of the bell on the door, the squeak of Felix’s boots on the linoleum floor. He stopped feeling angry about a week ago and now he just—

He didn’t miss Felix. 

Fuck that.

The asshole had ditched him, had left him to walk home in the fucking rain. Jack had been lucky to not catch a cold. Felix was a fucking asshole. 

. . .

“I’m not sure what you did,” Joyce began harshly. “But you need to fix it. Felix hasn’t shown up in weeks. What did you do?”

Jack narrowed his eyes, not liking the accusation. “We went on a photography session and he—”

“You went on a date with him?”

“It wasn’t a date. He didn’t call it a date, so it wasn’t.” Jack had wished it was. Maybe not anymore, but he had then. Maybe even a little now. Because what if things would have been different?”

“You need to fix this,” Joyce said. 

“I didn’t break it.”

“Then how do you know it’s broken?”

Jack scowled. “He ditched me. I was just walking along, literally just walking, and he suddenly clammed up and turned tail and fled. I don’t know what I did, Joyce. I don’t know if I said something wrong or anything. So I can’t fix it, okay? He won’t let me.”

Joyce finally dropped her stony his expression and looked like she felt sorry for him. “Too bad,” she said. “You two would have made a cute couple.”

Jack couldn’t disagree and he hated it.

. . .

That very same night, three weeks and five days after Jack had been left in the middle of nowhere, Felix came into the diner.

His shoes squelched with the rain and wetness on the linoleum. He looked up for only a moment before ducking his head, visibly ashamed, knowing he’d done wrong. Jack was closing with Joyce, but he was in the front and first to see him come in. Jack narrowed his eyes at Felix, yet didn’t say a word. At the register, Joyce’s brow flew up. “I’ll be in the back,” she said. Jack wanted to ask her to stay, not leave her to this, but—

Fuck it.

He kinda didn’t care anymore.

“What do ye’ want?” Jack asked. 

“Jack, I’m—”

“We’ve pie,” Jack interrupted. “Peach and cherry.”

Felix hesitated. Then he sighed and sat in the bar seat that he would always take. “Peach, please.”

Jack nodded and went to the glass containers that displayed the pie, took out a piece, plated it, and then slid it along the counter for Felix with a fork. “I’ll be in the back.”

“Jack, I need to talk to you.”

“Ye’ sure you can manage it?”

Harsh, but necessary. Felix grimaced and ducked his head. “I don’t have an excuse,” he said. “Just a reason. But first and foremost, I’m sorry.”

Jack met Felix’s grimace with one of his own. “It was raining, Felix.”

“I know,” he affirmed. “I’m so sorry. It was awful of me.”

Jack sighed and went to the back, but only to grab a rag and cleaner. He could do some chores while he listened, at least. “Talk,” he told Felix. “You’re getting the ten minutes before we close.”

“I like you.”

Jack nearly dropped the bottle of cleaner, not having expected Felix to just blurt that out. He couldn’t look at the other man. Couldn’t give too much away.

I like you a lot,” Felix reiterated. “So much, too much, really. A-and you were right, ages ago. I came here to run from something. I’m a good photographer, but I didn’t use to teach. I was a reporting photographer, I would go into war zones and take pictures and I’d do all kinds of stupid shit in the name of investigative reporting and journalism. But then I had to stop because—”

Felix cut himself off as his voice became strangled with emotion. 

Jack felt sorry for him. “I came here cause of an ex,” he told Felix. “Bad one. Isolated me from friends and family. Once I got out of that relationship, I didn’t feel— I couldn’t go back to my family. Couldn’t go back to the old people that I had because they’d been burned by how easily I had turned away from them. I made a rift I couldn’t repair. I had t’ leave. Had to make a new life for myself. That’s why I’m here. Why are you?”

“I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Why are you here, Felix?”

Felix’s hands were shaking around the fork he was holding. “My best friend, Brad. I lived in the UK for a while, I was away on an assignment. Brad was picking up my family from the airport to get them to my apartment for a surprise birthday party for when I would be coming home the next day. But you know the UK— it was raining. Raining hard. And someone else wasn’t paying attention. They lost control, broke through a railing, and went into the oncoming lane of traffic. Hit Brad’s car headfirst. No one was killed on impact. The engine caught fire and it was oil, the rain couldn't put it out, not in time. Everyone—” Felix stopped talking again. 

“I came home a day early because I had to bury them all,” he said after a moment. “My five-year-old nephew was in that car. The casket was so small.”

Jack felt sick. “I’m sorry, Felix.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Felix told him. “I can’t bring them back. All I can do is move on and rebuild. That was, that was why I came here. Why I took this job. Because I couldn’t go back into war zones, couldn’t go back to corpses and suffering. All I saw was my nephew and Brad and Fanny and her husband and my parents. I took this job to fix myself. And then I met you and I—”

Felix cut off again. He dropped the fork and twisted his shaking fingers in his hair. “I had a crush on Brad,” he finally managed. “For ages. I had a huge crush on my best friend and I never did anything about it. He died a year ago, I should be fine, right? It shouldn’t have bothered me. But then I met you and I started to—”

“You didn’t want to insult his memory,” Jack finished bitterly.

“What?” Felix looked up, expression twisted. “No. _No._ I’m scared I’ll lose you to another idiot that was on his fucking phone. I-I don’t want to say I’m paranoid, but I’ve seen the worst of people. I know what they can do, on purpose or not. I’m scared to like you cause I could lose you.”

Jack tried to say this as kindly as possible. “That’s fucking stupid.” He failed. But somehow, Felix cracked the tiniest grin.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I’m a photographer, Jack. We’re not known for our intelligence.”

“I ain’t gonna live forever,” Jack told him. “And neither are you. I could have easily looked at ye’ and thought, ‘Fuck, he’s gonna try and ruin my like my ex did.’ But I don’t, and you know why? Because you proved yourself to be a genuinely kind and decent person, up until you fuckin’ ditched me in the rain. And even that just seems more tragic than dickish.”

“It’s just hard,” Felix choked out. “You bury so many people and everyone just has this unreadable timer over their head.”

“I get that,” Jack said. “I do. But you’ve got a timer too. And it could have less time than ye’ think. Wouldn’t you rather spend that time being happy?”

Felix hesitated. “I think I would,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure I ruined that chance for happiness by leaving you in the rain.”

Jack sighed. “… I don’t agree.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Jack twisted his lips into a crooked grin. “Why don’t ye’ try a second time?”

Felix hadn’t even touched his pie. “Jack, will you go on a date with me?”

“Wow, right into dates? Not even a modeling ruse?”

“Jack, go on a date with me.”

Jack grinned wider. “Yeah. Sure. But I’m gonna drive next time.”

“Absolutely.”

Jack bit his lip. He glanced back, to where Joyce was still tucked away in the kitchen, then leaned over the counter to place the smallest of kisses to Felix’s cheek. But Felix turned his head at the last moment, and Jack caught his lips instead. And Jack didn’t fucking pussy out, so he pressed deeper, kissing Felix properly, unable to keep the smile from the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach. Felix’s lips were soft, softer than any man’s that Jack had ever kissed. He tasted fairly of cherry and Jack wondered if he liked flavored chapstick almost as much as he liked sweet pies. 

Felix pulled away after a long moment of just their lips touching. He smiled shyly up at Jack. “That wasn’t bad, right?”

“Pretty damn good,” Jack admitted. “You ain’t gonna try and keep me from seeing Mark, yeah?”

“Hardly,” Felix said. “I work too much to manage that.”

“That’s a terrible joke.” Jack snickered. 

“Kiss me again?” Felix asked. 

Jack leaned in to press their lips together again, his chest soaring. From the back, he heard a pleased little hum from Joyce. He would have to go home and tell Mark he was right and watch the ego inflate Mark’s head even more. He’d have to tell Robin and suffer through endless, mundane teasing. 

Jack was excited for all of it.


End file.
